Accompanying the Dying
By friar Chuck Henkle, OFM Conv.

As a Franciscan priest who has served in hospice ministry even into my retirement years, I find this 800th anniversary of St. Francis’s death (October 3, 1226) a profound invitation to reflect on “Sister Death.” Francis’s embrace of death as “Sister” offers timeless wisdom for those who walk with the dying today.
In the Gesang der Geschöpfe, Francis sings: “Praised be You, my Lord, through our Sister Bodily Death, from whom no living person can escape. Woe to those who die in mortal sin! Blessed are those whom death will find in Your most holy will…” This is no abstract poetry. On his deathbed at the Portiuncula, racked with pain and blindness, Francis asked the brothers to sing the Canticle and read the Passion from St. John’s Gospel. He welcomed Sister Death with joy and praise.
My own hospice experiences echo this spirit. I remember sitting with a woman in her final hours. Fear gripped her until we prayed together, invoking Francis’s radical trust. As we spoke of God’s mercy, her breathing eased and peace settled over her. I have learned that accompanying the dying is less about fixing pain—though we use every medical and spiritual tool available—and more about presence. It is about creating a sacred space where patients can reconcile, express love, and surrender into God’s hands.
Franciscan spirituality shapes deeply ministry to the dying. Francis saw all creation as a family: Brother Sun, Sister Moon, and, yes, Sister Death. This fraternal worldview dismantles the isolation so common at the end of life. In hospice, we strive to restore relationship—with family, with self, with God. We wash feet as Francis did, listen as he listened to the leper, and remind people they are not burdens but beloved children of God.
Even now retired, I continue visiting patients when called. One man, a veteran facing lung cancer, shared stories of regret. We celebrated the Sacraments of Reconciliation and Eucharist, then simply sat in silence. He died the next day with a quiet smile—the kind that says, “I am in God’s most holy will.” These moments teach me that death is not the enemy but our passage, or transitus, to the Father who created us. Francis’s greeting Sister Death teaches us how to make this passage a song of praise.
As friars engaged in healthcare, chaplaincy, and hospice care, we stand with the dying poor.
In this anniversary year, may we, like Saint Francis, praise God through Sister Death and help others cross this great threshold in peace, confident in the Resurrection. For in the end, our life is changed, not ended.